


My Best Beloved

by aimeewrites



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: Four years later - four years after Cameron and Serena received the tragic news … can miracles really happen ?





	1. Chapter 1

The cabbie was a chatty type, but luckily he didn’t need any input from her to keep on talking. Bernie wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat. She felt nervous and tense, and for a minute or two, she actually contemplated the thought of telling the cab driver to take her back to the station. Maybe this was all a mistake. No one was waiting for her anymore. Maybe she should just try to make a new start somewhere no one knew her. But she had to know – this was what had kept her alive during those last four years – hope.

The car stopped and she paid the driver with the cash the Army had given her. She had only been back to England for four days, had spent three of those being debriefed at the local base and of course her bank accounts had been closed four years previously. She did not even know who she would find at the hospital – did Cameron still work there? Did Serena, for that matter? She had had no contact with anyone, not since that day in Mogadishu… Her memories from that day had disappeared, too, hidden in a corner of her brain. All she could remember was the noise – a huge blasting noise, and then darkness. When she woke up, she was lying on the ground, hands and feet bound by a chafing rope…

Bernie took a deep breath and strode into the hospital, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel. Hopefully the departments were still all in the same place, and she made her way to AAU. The first person she recognised had a few more grey strands in her hair – as Donna almost screamed and knocked her over with a hug, Bernie felt strangely relieved. She had managed to convince herself that maybe no one would know her – maybe she had been forgotten altogether. And when a second later she saw a very familiar figure emerge from her office, she suddenly swayed and blacked out.

When she came to, she was lying on one of the beds, the curtains around it thankfully shielding her from prying eyes. She licked her lips and blinked several times. Where was she? Her vision was blurry, her head ached, her throat felt raw and dry. She couldn’t focus, she felt disorientated and weak all over. She tried to sit up, but found she couldn’t. A rushing sound filled her ears, and she retched. Someone handled her a basin, but she had nothing to throw up – only a trickle of bile. She tried to open her eyes properly but the harsh glare of the neon lights hurt. She forced herself to open her eyes fully and focused on the person standing at the foot of the bed, who looked as if she might pass out too. Bernie attempted a weak smile: “Surprise!” And then Serena was kneeling at the side of the bed, her hand in hers, and was looking at her with an expression of incredulity mixed with pity. Bernie swallowed hard – she knew the cause of that look all too well – she had worn the same one when she had first looked in the mirror after her liberation. She had been offered a haircut at the army base and had accepted gratefully, but her hair was now almost completely white, with strands of grey. She was extremely pale, even more than her usual complexion and very underweight. Moreover, her cheek was split by a vivid red scar. She had been extremely lucky not to lose an eye…

“Bernie – how – what…” murmured Serena, unable to keep from staring at her former lover.

“Long story…” Bernie tried to stand up but she swayed and Serena caught her just in time.

“You’re not going anywhere – you’re dehydrated and your pulse is very low – you need to rest.”

Bernie closed her eyes again, somehow relieved that Serena was taking charge – the Army medics had wanted her to stay in the base’s hospital but she had refused – she thought she had earned the right not to obey orders, for once. Adrenalin had brought her to Holby but now her strength deserted her. There was something else, though: “Cameron? Is he – here?”

“I’m so sorry, Bernie – he’s not here anymore. When the news came he… He had a tough time – took a few months’ break, and he’s now working in London. I’ll call him immediately.”

Bernie nodded, immediately regretting it as it sent waves of pain inside her brain. In a fog, she heard: “I’ve given you a sedative, so you can rest – you can tell me everything later.”

When Serena left the room, Bernie was already asleep. Serena reached for her mobile and selected Cameron’s number. When she got his voicemail, she hesitated. Could she tell him like that? Better not. She just asked him to contact her urgently, for good news. What she hadn’t said to Bernie was that he had spiralled into drugs and alcohol after her “death” and he had had to spend several months in rehab before he could go back to work. Satisfied that Bernie was as well as could be –her heartbeat still a little below the normal range, but that was to be expected – Serena went back to her office, she sat down heavily and stared at the empty chair on the other side of the desk. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Things like that didn’t happen in real life – only in novels, and usually not very good ones.

Four years earlier, when Cameron had told her Bernie was MIA, she had fallen to pieces. She had tried to hold herself together for his sake, but she had been devastated. For a few days, they had both tried to see the positive side – at least they had not found Bernie’s body after the explosion – she might still be alive. But when a week after the Casualty Notifying Officer had been dispatched to see Cameron, Alex Dawson had arrived in Holby, bringing the tragic news that part of Bernie’s uniform and her watch had been found at the scene, they had both lost hope. So had the Army, in fact – they had declared her dead. The memorial service had been excruciating, The Last Post resonating in front of the church and not in the cemetery as there was no body to bury. Alex had not been very forthcoming when Serena had asked her why she was involved in all that. She had admitted that she and Bernie had met again in Nairobi, and that she had convinced Bernie to accept a rescue mission in Somalia – a mission which should have been safe, had murmured Alex almost to herself, and Serena had seen her eyes moisten. And finally, Alex had broken down too and told Serena she felt responsible for Bernie’s death, because if not for her, Bernie would still be safe and sound in Nairobi. Both women had cried in each other’s arms, and Serena had guessed that maybe Alex and Bernie had been more than friends once again. She had managed to be almost glad of it – after all, she had been the one who’d sent Bernie away…The one who’d cheated. But when Alex handed her an envelope and explained it had been found in Bernie’s possessions at the base in Somalia, she had broken down all over again. When she had stopped crying long enough to read the letter, she had realised she had been right – and wrong:

_“My Best Beloved,_

_If you get this letter, it means I have been killed in action. I had no intention of enlisting again when I left Holby that last time, but… Somehow it felt right – as if at least in the Army I could be of help to someone…Be useful. I know if something happens to me, Alex will blame herself – if you can, tell her she should not – it was entirely my decision. I imagine you together at my funeral – an odd tableau. She and I… We kept each other company for a while – she was unhappy, so was I, and our two solitudes found and comforted each other. But… You and I, Serena – we were the real thing. I know you got scared, I should have been stronger. You once told me your mother used to read you stories to help you get to sleep, and you had read the same ones to Eleanor. You weren’t raised on fairy tales, lonely princesses, princes charming and happily ever after. You were told about cats that walked by themselves, elephants without trunks and leopards without spots… That is why for me, you will always be my Best Beloved._

_But I digress – if you read this letter, it means I’m dead. After I left for Nairobi, I was mad at you – and I stayed mad for a long time – or what feels like a long time. And then I wanted to come back, but I was afraid to be rejected again. So I stayed away… Tried to make a go of it with Alex, but she is the nomadic one, the real Army brat, the one who would never settle for slippers and a swing. It wouldn’t have worked – I still thought about you – every day. There are so many things I never told you, and now it’s too late. If you get this letter, it means I never got to apologise face to face. I wish I’d been brave enough to stay when you sent me away . I wish I … I wish I knew if you still love me too, because…If you do, please believe me, my Best Beloved – I am so, so sorry. Sorry we never had a future, sorry for what you must be going through now if you still love me a little. I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done, and for what I’m going to say. I want you to be happy – I wish it had been with me, but… You cannot live your life to please other people, that can only make you miserable. I want you to find the strength to move on, and to free yourself from society’s constraints – I want you to trust enough to love someone else. To open up, to let others discover how wonderful you are. You deserve so much, my Best Beloved, you have to believe me, because you’ve never believed in yourself. You deserve to find someone who will love you as much as you deserve, someone who will make you happy._

_Please be happy for both of us. I love you. Bernie_

The letter had remained in Serena’s pocket for a long time, and then she had put it with a picture of Bernie on her desk. She stared at that picture now and tried to reconcile it with the shadow of the woman lying on the bed in the ward. Did they have a future now? Her mind churned with thoughts about what Bernie must have gone through – would she recover? Would she be able to get back to her life – a life?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one contains elements of violence

When Bernie woke up, she drank avidly her surroundings, uninspiring though they were. The white sheets, the white curtains, the medical equipment – not so long before, she had though she would die in the dirt of Somalia. And then, of course, her eyes found Serena, slumbering in a chair near the bed. Bernie cleared her throat and Serena jumped up. When Serena leant over her to check her vitals, Bernie caught her hand and deposited a kiss on the inside of Serena’s wrist, hesitantly, fleetingly. Serena caressed the whitened hair and as she used to, she cleared Bernie’s brow and kissed it. There was hesitation too in that kiss, fear of breaking the pale skin with too much passion, fear of breaking the miracle with the intrusion of reality. Bernie laughed a little, a distant imitation of the pealing laugh that had rang in the wards many years before: “It’s really me – I’m not a ghost… Although…” She licked her lips and Serena handed her a glass of water. Then clearing her throat, almost pleadingly, Bernie asked: “Cameron? And… And Alex?”

Serena frowned: “Alex? Won’t she have been told by your CO or whoever is in charge?”

Bernie gulped: “I’m not – sure. I don’t really know where she is or – or what happened really. When they found me, I…” She swallowed hard and a few tears escaped and rolled on her cheek: “I’m sorry, Serena – sorry I’m such a wreck – I’ve – spent a lot of time crying those last few days. I guess – for four years, I didn’t – I couldn’t let them see…”

“Shush – you can cry all you want. Cameron is on his way, and I’m going to try and reach Alex. And Charlotte – well, I can try, but – maybe Cameron knows how to reach her.”

“Charlotte – yes – that would be nice. But I need to…”

And Bernie’s eyes closed again, as she once again succumbed to sleep.

In truth, Serena had no idea how to reach Charlotte – the last time she had seen the girl was at the memorial service, and Charlotte had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Serena, whom she very unjustly blamed for her parents’ divorce. Even Marcus had come and acknowledged her, but Charlotte had looked daggers at her and kept her distances.

A few hours later, Cameron burst into Serena’s office, unshaven, tousled hair, wrinkled clothes.

“What happened?” he barked. “Is it Guinivere? Are you okay?”

“Guinivere is fine – I’m – I’m fine – I’m more than fine, actually. I did say it was good news, Cam”, replied Serena in a chiding tone. “I hope you drove safely!”

He dropped on the couch and glared at her: “So maybe your message should have been less cryptic – what is it then?” Even though he was relieved nothing had happened to “the baby”, of whom he had become very fond of, or to Serena, who had helped him through his grief, he still felt anxious and tense every time something disrupted his routine.

“Come with me, Cam.”

As Serena led him into the ward, she put a hand on his shoulder: “It’s good news, really.” She parted the curtains and he just stood there, dumb-struck. “What – how?” 

“My words exactly – I don’t know – your mum hasn’t been able to tell me yet. She is… Exhausted and – battered and bruised – but she’s alive.”

Cameron threw himself in Serena’s arms and sobbed on her shoulder, and the great gulps he took between sobs woke up Bernie.

“Cam – would you… Would you give me a hug? I – I’ve missed you so, so much…”

Mother and son hugged in silence for a long time. Then Bernie disengaged herself gently from the embrace and looked at Cameron: “It’s so good to see you, Cam – I thought – I thought I’d never see you again.” She pushed him away a little and attempted to get up. He tried to object but Bernie overrode him: “Don’t – I’ve spent the last four years a prisoner – don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” When she stood up, Serena took in the full extent of the damage on her lover’s body. Bernie limped to the bathroom – as she felt Serena’s eyes on her, she felt moved to explain: “I… I broke my leg – They – they called a – a kind of doctor but…” She remembered how the old man had touched her leg, making her scream and muttered a few words – one of the younger captors had translated for her: “He say – not broken – all ok.” But she had known it was, and the rudimentary splint she had tried to fashion had not been enough for the bones to set properly. When Bernie turned her back to Serena, the hospital gown gave the latter a glimpse of Bernie’s back and she had to bite on her fist not to cry out – Bernie’s back was criss-crossed with welts, some of them still angry and red, some of them older. Bernie had heard the muffled cry and when she came back into the room, she motioned Cameron away and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her own clothes back on. Even once she had put on the trousers, shirt and jumper the Army had given her at the base, she shivered. She turned towards Serena and took her hand again: “I know you’ve seen my…”

“Yes…”

“It was – that last time – when they moved me. There was another hostage with me that time – an American journalist. We – we thought it would be a good idea to make a run for it. We almost…”

Bernie remembered running to the mosque, the air burning into her lungs as the exertion took its toll. And then, at the mosque, a woman had come towards her, her burqa billowing and enveloping her, and for one second she had thought she would be free. Then a shot had rang, the woman had crumpled over the floor and her kidnappers had yanked her roughly away and back to their vehicle. On the floor of the trunk, her co-hostage laid bound hands and ankles together. At the camp, they had been dragged to one of the guys in charge, and he had looked at them scornfully for a while before delivering his sentence. The American hostage had been tortured in front of her and then made to kneel in the dirt before being shot. She had been tied to a post and whipped until she’d passed out. That day, even more than others, she had thought she would die.

“We almost made it – and we didn’t. They… They punished us.” She didn’t say anymore – there was no need to explain. Serena already had her hand over her mouth in horror.

“You’ve got a fever, you know – you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

Bernie looked daggers at Serena: “I need to – I need to walk. It – it saved me, walking.” Every time they had moved her to a new place and before she had tried to escape, she had tried to get some exercise every day. After her escape attempt, she had always been tied to either a tree or a piece of furniture. And then, towards the end, she had been too weak to even try to move – hundreds of days of surviving on beans, rice, and canned tuna, with very little water, had taken their toll. Suddenly she felt as if she was suffocating. She turned pleadingly towards Serena: “Can we get out of here, please? Anywhere – I…”

Serena nodded, although she would have preferred to keep Bernie in bed with an antibiotic IV… Or to wrap her in cotton wool. Either would have worked. But she offered her arm and they walked slowly towards Pulses. Serena took a little bottle of hand gel out of her pocket and offered it to Bernie. Bernie took the bottle and contemplated it thoughtfully: “I…You really take things for granted, you know. Even in deployment, we have always had – well, basic comforts, but… Hygiene…” Bernie drank her coffee slowly and nibbled on a croissant – she wasn’t really hungry, and her stomach would take years to recover, but the sweet taste helped. After a few minutes, she went on: “They decided I had to convert to Islam – so they made me pray with them – five times a day. It was five times a day I knew I wouldn’t have a AK47 pointing at me, and five times I’d get to wash my hands. Pretending to pray – a small price to pray for that.”

Serena just sat there, drinking the sight of the woman she had thought lost forever. Several people stopped at their table – Dom, Sasha, Essie, even Jac Naylor. None of them knew what to say, but all of them wanted to hug Bernie and although she’d never liked physical contact, she could not deny them. It saved a lot of awkward conversation and she discovered she had been so starved of human touch – of kindness – that she welcomed the hugs. From the women at least. She shrank away from the men, acutely aware they would sense it and be hurt, but she couldn’t do otherwise.

After having eaten about half the croissant, Bernie began to dissect the rest of it into small crumbs. Now she was face-to-face with Serena, she didn’t know what to say anymore. She had imagined that moment so many times during her captivity, made up so many scenarios… She didn’t know what to ask – how to ask. Finally, in a small voice, looking at her hands, she asked: “Did you – did you think about me at all? I mean – before… Before you thought… Oh hell! I don’t know…”

Serena reached over the table and caressed Bernie’s cheek, forcing her to look at her: “You don’t need to ask. I'll tell you. I resented you at first – I resented the fact that you’d gone, even though I’d pushed you away. And I hated the fact I couldn’t stop thinking about you – I hated you for that – for coming into my life and leaving. For making me love you. And then, when you died… It made everything so much worse – because… Because it was final. Because I’d lost you forever, like I’d lost Eleanor. Yes, there was someone else – an old friend for a few months, but he was just getting over a divorce, and… Well, that didn’t exactly make for a great relationship. And then… Last year – a work colleague – Fleur introduced us, actually. He was a very kind man, and I really wanted to make him happy. I tried very hard but… Anyway, we separated four months ago, no hard feelings on either side.”

She searched Bernie’s face for a reaction. She had told the truth – the last time she had tried to lie, it hadn’t gone well… Bernie smiled softly: “I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone.”

Serena heaved a sigh of relief and pressed on: “Bernie? You’ll come home with me? I’ve moved – the house was too big and… Too empty. But I’ve got a nice flat, not far from the hospital, nor from Jason’s place. I haven’t told him yet, by the way – I – I don’t know how he’ll take it. He was devastated when he heard you were dead. Anyway – I’ve – I’ve even got a spare room if…”

“I’m going back to the hotel – right now, in fact”, interrupted Bernie. “I – I need to be alone for a while.”

“But… But I thought…”

“Yes – I know what you thought, Serena. But – I need time, okay? Just… Just a little time.” Bernie hurried out of Pulses, leaving a bewildered Serena staring at her. She hailed a cab and after giving him the address of the hotel she usually went to, she reclined in the back seat. She hated herself for having been so abrupt, but she’d suddenly felt suffocated and lost. Too much, too soon…


	3. Chapter 3

As she tossed and turned in the hotel room, Bernie almost regretted not having stayed at the hospital. At least they would have given her something to make her sleep. Not that she really wanted to. Firstly, because she had not yet had one good, nightmare-free night of sleep since she had been freed… Secondly, because she felt as if she was running behind a moving train…Four years of her life, down the drain – most importantly, four years of the others’ lives down the drain. Her children, Serena, Alex… Her colleagues in Nairobi, too. When she had agreed to accompany Alex on an Army medical training and rescue mission in collaboration with the Somalian National Army, she had never imagined she would get robbed of four years. She had, of course, considered the possibility of being killed – it would have been foolish not to. As a soldier, she knew that. This was why she had written letters – one to each of her children and one to Serena.

When she had woken up on the floor of a dusty hut, she had had no idea what had happened to her. Several hours later, she had been told about her situation. Very proud of themselves, her kidnappers had bragged endlessly about it. One or two of them spoke some English, and they had told her how they’d found her after the explosion, not hurt but stunned by the blast. How they had guessed she must be American – bad luck there – or English, and they would get a good price for her from her government. By sheer luck, she hadn’t been wearing her full Army kit, or they might have killed her on the spot. But a civilian hostage was a bonus. She’d told them she was an English doctor but they didn’t care. And when they hadn’t seen any money coming their way, they’d decided it was all right to rough her up a bit. In fact, they’d decided that although she might still be useful as an exchange currency, she was also a woman – a “beach”, as they said – in other circumstances, the pronunciation might have make her laugh. They didn’t see a lot of women…

The Army had given her a mobile phone when she’d arrived back in England, not much use to her as she didn’t remember any numbers. Anyway, it was… Four in the morning, and she was still awake. She switched it on nonetheless and saw that someone – probably Cameron at the hospital – had put his number and Serena’s in it. Serena… She hadn’t yet had time to process what her former lover had told her, but… Even in her exhausted state, she had managed to hear and remember one thing – Serena was now single again. And she might want her again. Bernie sighed. She was so tired… She contemplated the phone in her hand, and suddenly, she just had to try – even at four in the morning – she doubted Alex was in England anyway. She should have asked Serena. She dialled the one number she remembered, because it had been Army-issued and they had been made to learn each other’s numbers for security reasons. A grumpy but familiar voice answered:

“Colonel Dawson speaking – this has better be good, whoever you are. I’m just out of theatre and I haven’t slept for days!”

“Alex…”

“What… Who are you?”

“Alex – it’s… It’s Bernie – I’m… I’m not dead.”

Bernie heard a thud at the other end of the line and the phone crashing to the floor. Then Alex was back: “Bern? Bern – is it – I – I can’t believe it. You’re – you’re dead. The General signed your death certificate, for God’s sake.”

“Well… Bully for the General… You can tell him he made a mistake – if it’s General Patten, please wait until I’m there with you – it would make my day to see him caught in the wrong.”

“Bern – what happened to you? Are you – are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Alex. Or – I will be. Where – where are you? Are you – still there?”

“I’m back in Blighty – Queen Elisabeth in Birmingham. I couldn’t have stayed – not after…”

“I understand – Alex – could I – I think I need to see you. I need someone who – who understands. I can’t tell – Serena, or Cam…”

“I’m leaving right now – I’ll be with you in… One hour – where are you? At the base?”

“No – at the Hilton. A bit more comfy – you can even bring your swimsuit if you want.”

Alex laughed and the sound of her friend’s chortle told Bernie that maybe everything would be all right. Maybe after all, she would be able to live again.

\--------------

Alex arrived a little less than an hour later and Bernie found that she hadn’t moved from the chair she had nestled in. When Alex knocked, she unwound her tight muscles and stood up with a grimace. She saw the slight hesitation in Alex’s eyes before the latter embraced her fiercely. Bernie quietened the urge that told her to shy away from the embrace, breathed in the familiar smells of iodoform and Vicks Vapor Rub and closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel safe in the familiar arms. She found that she did not want nor need to talk about her ordeal after all. They had both been through enough briefings about hostage situations for Alex to understand intuitively and decipher Bernie’s body language.

Around eight in the morning, Bernie finally fell asleep, her head on Alex’s shoulder. When the brunette heard the tell-tale breathing rhythm, she gently disengaged herself and moved Bernie in a more comfortable position on the pillows. She phoned her hospital to tell them not to expect her that day and contemplated her sleeping friend. Bernie’s slumber appeared far from peaceful and Alex wondered if she should wake her. Bernie cried out in her sleep and Alex saw tears roll down her cheek. For four years, she had carried the guilt of knowing she had been responsible for Bernie being in Mogadishu on the day of the explosion. She had blamed herself for her former lover’s death, and now that it turned out that Bernie was alive, she didn’t know what to feel anymore. Part of her rejoiced, of course, and yet she had seen so many cases of PTSD following such traumas that she was scared for her friend. Once again Bernie trashed out and screamed and this time Alex decided to wake her. Half-asleep, Bernie pushed her violently away and Alex had to grab the bedside table to keep from falling. When Bernie realised what she’d done, she immediately apologised: “I’m sorry, Alex – I thought – I thought I was back there.” Alex just nodded and took Bernie’s hand, caressing her palm with her fingers. The rhythmic motion helped Bernie calm down and her heartbeat slowed.

Alex ordered breakfast for them both but Bernie only drank the coffee and ate half a piece of toast, after which she pushed the plate away. “I have to go back to the base, Alex – they want to ask me more questions. And I have to see the shrink… And then…Then I have to rebuild my life, I guess. Find a place to live, and…” She sighed – just thinking about it exhausted her.

“ Tell me what you need, Bern – how I can help. Do you want me to buy you some clothes while you’re at the base, for ex?”

Bernie looked at the clothes she’d been wearing for the last four days.

“Hmm – yes, that would be nice. Could you get me some slacks or jeans and, you know, a shirt and maybe a sweater?”

Alex looked at Bernie – the blonde used to be a size 12, but now she was probably more a 10 or an 8. “Will do – no problem.”

“I’ll just stay here for a few days, I think. Can you drop them at reception if I’m not back?”

“Sure.”

Alex hesitated and went on: “It’s probably none of my business but – you told me Serena had asked you to come home with her. Why don’t you consider it? I don’t like the idea of you being alone…”

Bernie laughed a little and then sobered up: “If you’re afraid I’m going to kill myself, I’m not. I did think about it, when… Well, anyway, I’m not going to. I need to be alone for a while. I need to know where I stand with Serena, too, before I take her up on her offer. Right now… I can’t feel anything… I’m going through the motions of living but… I blocked it all, you know – for four years, I stopped feeling. I made myself feel dead inside because otherwise – otherwise I wouldn’t have survived. And now – I have to learn how to feel again.”

Alex bit her lips to keep herself from crying. When she had seen Bernie again in Nairobi, she had been amazed at the changes in her. Although the blonde had been very much broken-hearted and dispirited, she had also been softer, more open and more communicative than when they had been together. And now, the shutters had come down again and Bernie had retreated into herself.


	4. Epilogue

_Six months later_

Her discharge papers had finally come through – for the second time in her life, Bernie was leaving the Forces. Holby ED had welcomed her with open arms, and as she could not imagine not working, she had accepted the position. Neither her body nor her mind had fully recovered from her ordeal. She still had panic attacks, flashbacks – triggered by any kind of noise vaguely resembling an explosion – and nightmares. She had refused the offers of therapy at first, arguing that she had been trained in PTSD counselling herself, but she had finally come to the conclusion that however resilient she may be, asking for help was not a show of weakness and she had started to see a psychologist. Cameron had stayed in London, where he was doing a good job as an obstetrics registrar, but he made regular trips to Holby to see her and the last time he had come down, he had brought his girlfriend, a very nice girl. He had read the riot act to his sister and Charlotte had finally accepted her mother back into her life again. She was, however, learning yoga and meditation in India at the moment. Bernie wasn’t particularly happy with her daughter’s choice of career, but she had no say in it.

She still hadn’t moved in with Serena – she had found a small furnished flat not far from the hospital that she hadn’t really bothered to make her own with personal touches, but it served as a retreat from the world when she became overwhelmed. The first nights they had spent together had forced Serena to realise how slowly they would have to proceed to rebuild their relationship. Total darkness plunged Bernie into a panic attack, and although the first time Serena had switched off the lights, her lover had tried to hold it together, Serena had felt her tremble uncontrollably in her arms. It had taken hours for Bernie to calm down enough to tolerate being held in Serena’s arms. As for intimacy, it was completely impossible. Every time Serena attempted something or even hinted at their having a sex life, Bernie shut down completely and refused to explain. It wasn’t until she had had several sessions with her therapist that she found the courage to explain that during her first years in captivity, she had been raped repeatedly and brutally. It had only stopped when her younger abductors had sold her to another group of older men who had abused her physically but not sexually. Bernie had to learn to trust Serena, and most of all herself, all over again. Even when the physical scars had healed, she had to stop herself from flinching every time Serena touched her breasts. From tensing when Serena’s fingers approached her intimate parts. From curling into a tight ball and crying. More than the lightest contact was of course out of the question. And then, slowly, she managed to piece herself back together. To give her partner pleasure was easier than to receive, and Serena eagerly relinquished control.

After more than six months of tries and trials, Bernie surprised Serena with a few days away together. She had thrown herself into her work, Serena had thus had to follow suit and the little time they spent together was fraught with difficulties. After so many years in deployment, Bernie’s life had shrunk to her tiny flat, Serena’s place and the hospital, and the cocoon that had felt so comfortable, so familiar at first now began to suffocate her. She was terrified of going back out into the unknown, but she knew she had to if she wanted to live normally ever again. So she bought plane tickets to the South of France, to the little town where Serena had found solace after Eleanor’s death. And there, in the fresh sheets of the hotel’s double bed, the window wide open on the Montagne Sainte-Victoire, she at last allowed herself to feel again. To caress and be caressed – to touch and be touched – to kiss and to be kissed – to make love and to feel love again. As they found their climaxes together, Bernie let go of the past and opened herself up to the future.


End file.
